THE NORTH STAR
I
WHAT SHALL OLAF FIND?
“And thou sayest, of a surety, Thore Klakka, this boy still lives?”
“Earl Haakon, it is not more certain that the jarls of the Orkneys must meet thy tithe, than that this boy, this Olaf, of the true Yingling race and likewise of the true race of Harold Fairhaired, still lives.”
“Harold Fairhaired–aye–I remember.”
“And it were well for thee, Jarl Haakon, to remember, for the Norsemen do not forget. They say that this Olaf, the beautiful, brave, kingly lad, showed even in his beggar’s dress, when he fled from thee and from Gunhild, of what royal blood he was. Boy–said I? It is nigh unto twenty-five years since Gudrod and Harold Grayfell murdered his father, Trygge Olafsson; and his mother, Aastrid, fled from her enemies to the Island of Rand’s Fiord, where her boy was born. Baby and lad and man, he seemed saved for some great place!”
Earl Haakon looked around uneasily. Thore Klakka, his steward, came closer.
